


My Kind Of Party

by HandsomeManExpress (DangerousCommieSubversive)



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Frenemies, Gen, Partying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-22 11:53:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2506832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DangerousCommieSubversive/pseuds/HandsomeManExpress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Tyler and Sasha go on a hate date, Dean is onto the wrong secret, and Adam Rose is not and has never been a hunter of men, haha, of course he hasn’t killed for sport and profit, why would you suggest that, oh goodness look it’s time for a party!</p><p>Based on a prompt I received from Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Kind Of Party

Despite what people say, it's not actually especially difficult to get invited onto the Exotic Express. You don't need that much at all—a good outfit, or an interesting opinion, or an exciting face and/or body, or some decent drugs, or Adam Rose's attention for two seconds. Or, honestly the wherewithal to go up and knock on the door.

(Whether you want to _stay_ on once you've _gotten_ on is another matter.)

In any case, Tyler is _certainly_ qualified for an invite, since he has _all_ of those things, and he's going to take advantage of it. If only because he _does_ try to keep up on _trends._ And maybe to show up that idiot Rose at his own party. Sasha Banks is coming with him, because she's curious and her hair is _perfect_ and she's at least _slightly_ less awful than everyone else he works with.

When they meet up, Sasha looks him up and down and says, “Well, I've had worse dates.”

He rolls his eyes and offers her his arm. “Just don't embarrass me.”

“Same to you.” She takes his arm, smirking. “So. We doing this?”

“Let's go.”

 

–

 

When they knock on the bus door it seems like ten pairs of hands reach out to pull them in, and then when they regain their footing everyone starts applauding.

They both preen instinctively, they rear back from the press of bodies, standing back to back reflexively to guard themselves and each other. Tyler leans back and says, in Sasha's ear, _“Ugh.”_

Sasha's nose wrinkles. “Smells like sweat and skunk.”

“The decorating is hideous.”

“Is that a monkey?”

“Oh god. Let's go find our _host_ before the _bunny_ shows up.”

They link arms again and dive into the crush.

After a moment they spot Adam Rose, his absurd hat rising from the crowd a few yards away. There's a table in the way, though, and someone's standing on it, swinging his vest over his head, swiveling his hips—

Tyler squints. Sasha says, “Is that...Fandango?”

“Yeah, he's been here a lot lately. Took the breakup hard. Well, heh, _breakups._ ”

They both jump. Tyler recoils. _“Ambrose?”_

Dean Ambrose grins crookedly at them and waves with a half-eaten piece of jerky. “Yeah, whassup.”

They stare at him.

“What, you wanna _go?_ ”

“What are _you_ doing here?” Sasha slides her shades down her nose so she can look at him with additional disdain. “Shouldn't you be, like, hunting for Seth Rollins?”

“'m always doin' that. Doesn't mean I don't got other hobbies.”

One of her eyebrows shoots up. “Such as...?”

He shrugs. “Huntin' vampires.”

More staring. A cheerleader offers them a tray of Jell-o shots; Tyler waves her away.

Finally, Sasha pulls herself together enough to look around the bus. “Not seeing any vampires in here, Dean.”

“Some fashion zombies, maybe.” Tyler's gazing with distaste at a couple nearby. “That outfit is _so_ six feet under.”

“Nah, man, _Rose._ ” Dean rips off a bit of jerky with his teeth. “There's something _up_ with that guy. _You_ ever see him outside during the day? Fuckin' sinister. And he's always goin' through groupies. I think he _eats_ them.”

“He's a jackass in a stupid hat, Dean.”

“A _sinister_ jackass. Who probably _drinks blood._ ” Dean isn't even looking at them; he's searching the crowd.

Tyler sniffs. “Well, you can just—”

“—come with us,” Sasha says, cutting him off. “We were just looking for him. To say hi.”

“What are you _thinking?_ ” Tyler hisses into her ear. “ _I_ don't want him around.”

“ _I_ don't want him _behind_ me,” Sasha says through her teeth, still grinning fixedly. “Come on, Dean, you with us?”

Dean shrugs. “Why the fuck not.”

They continue to shoulder through the dancing crowd, Tyler carefully keeping Sasha in between himself and Dean. In fact he's trying to touch as little as possible, with a surprising amount of success.

They find Adam Rose in a quieter corner of the bus. He's crouched like a gargoyle on top of a mini-fridge, turned slightly toward the wall, his phone to his ear and one hand concealing his mouth. His massive red coat drapes down over his perch like a carpet of fire in the flickering overheads. When Tyler and Sasha approach, though, his eyes flick towards them, and in a just-audible murmur, he says, “We will talk later. Ta-ta, Mr. Carter.”

As soon as his phone's away, he's beaming at them. “Tyler! Sasha! Good to see you! Welcome to the Exotic Express!” He hops down from the fridge and hugs Tyler before Tyler can move away.

Tyler's eyes go wide. His nostrils flare.

Sasha pushes her shades back up her nose and says, “Sick party.”

Adam laughs with brittle delight. “Have a drink! Have a smoke! Have a lolly! Have fun!”

And Dean just sort of _materializes_ next to Adam's elbow. Tyler recoils.

“Drink _what_ , Rose?” Dean leans in close. “Maybe... _blood?_ ”

Adam blinks at him and says, a bit too brightly, “What?”

“You're _up_ to something, Rose. I'm _onto_ you.”

Tyler extricates himself with a shudder, then suddenly frowns. “Didn't I see you in Milan last year? You were at the Versace show right before that journalist went missing.”

Sasha raises an eyebrow.

Adam rocks back on his heels a bit, as if struck, and then lets out another bright, sharp laugh. “Well, would you _look_ at the time!” He holds up his bare wrist. “It's time for an orgy!”

Sasha says, “What,” and Tyler says, “ _Excuse_ me—”

Adam cups both hands around his mouth and bellows, _“ORGY!”_

The entire bus screams.

In the abrupt chaos of flying clothes, Adam disappears.

Tyler edges toward the wall until he's shoulder-to-shoulder with Sasha. She's watching the sea of bodies with some interest. “You playing?”

 _“Please.”_ Tyler rolls his eyes. “I've been to _real_ orgies. This is just...uggos entertaining themselves. And anyway _you're_ not my type.”

Sasha snorts. “Like I'd be into _your_ fuckboy ass.” Then she leans forward, squinting. “Isn't that Carmella?”

“Who?”

“The chick who hangs out with Cass and Enzo.”

“How should _I_ know?”

She shrugs. “Later, blondie. It's been a thing.”

And she peels off her jacket, drapes it over the mini-fridge, and dives into the crowd, making a beeline for Carmella.

Shuddering, Tyler starts looking around for the exit, and realizes with a start that Dean is still standing next to him.

They stare at each other for a moment.

Then Dean looks him up and down, says, “I'd go for it, but you don't look like you'd choke hard enough,” and he's gone too.

Tyler has to fight to keep himself from vomiting.

Finally he starts edging along the wall, making for the bus dor. He's going to have to change as soon as he's off the Exotic Express. He may have to burn this outfit.

Just as he gets to the door, someone stumbles into him, and he almost lashes out on instinct until he sees that it's Dean. Not _much_ better, but at least it's not some random uggo with their pants off.

Dean regains his feet, reaches into his jacket, and produces a large silver crucifix. “ _Rose!_ ” he roars. “Show yourself, you fruity mosquito!”

Tyler ducks out of the bus.

The cool air of evening hits his skin, gloriously free of any beer breath or pot smoke. He rolls his neck, fixes his jacket, and checks his hair in his phone camera. “Better.” He's still going to have to shower for at least an _hour_ to get the smell out, but he _looks_ perfect.

“Heyyyyyyy! Breezey!”

Tyler looks up with a start. And _Adrian fucking Neville_ is waving to him, grinning stupidly, a drunken sway in his step.

“I was just, just 'aving a few beers, didn't think I'd be seeing _you_ around!”

Tyler kicks him in the face.

 _ **Much**_ _better,_ he thinks, as Adrian lunges at him and knocks them both into the bushes. _**This**_ _is more my kind of party._


End file.
